


Beneath The Heart Tree

by ArielChelby



Series: Winterfell [5]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drama & Romance, F/M, Fluff and Angst, One Shot, Season/Series 08, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-09
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-11-14 14:16:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18054068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArielChelby/pseuds/ArielChelby
Summary: A wedding in the godswood on the eve of the Battle for the Dawn.





	Beneath The Heart Tree

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to Some Precious Thing and Prequel to Tomorrow Is Our Promise, but can be read as stand alone.

 

It was the twilight hour, and there was almost a feeling of tranquility on the cold air. Snow flakes that had been pelting across the castle grounds not two hours before, were now falling softly, covering the freshly cleared path. The silence was deafening. Gone were the sounds of horses braying, steel upon steel in the training yard, and the endless hammering of anvils.

 

 

_War has not come here._

 

 

At the entrance of godswood she stood, one hand braced on the neck of a fearsome white direwolf, and the other lighting her path with a lantern. The light cast shadows over the waist high snow banks running along either side of the path.

 

 

Her procession would start the ceremony, but for all her efforts she could not stifle a sense of _foreboding_. As soon as this ceremony started, so would it end, and the future was a chasm of uncertainty. She tried to bring her mind to that state of joy a bride was rumored to feel, but all she knew was the slow beating of her heavy heart.

 

 

_I just want more time. Please, let there be more time._

 

 

As they made their way, she was grateful she had agreed to take the magnificent beast. Running her fingers through his fur, she kept herself grounded to the earth.

 

 

The blazing red leaves of the heart tree came into view, and she was greeted by the presence of their family and friends. Their smiles, and looks of genuine happiness, were a true contrast to her own feelings.

 

 

_Are they so naive or is this all a farce_ _?_ _Do they not realize this beginning may have a swift end?_

 

 

There before the heart tree he stood, waiting for her, and seeing him, her fear and trepidation melted away.  As far as she could tell, he was dressed as he usually was, brooding, and handsome as ever, in his dark wolf cloak.

 

 

Of all the terrible deeds she had done, she never thought she would be granted a _true family_. With that thought, a bright, unbidden smile broke across her face, and she felt a calmness settle over her.

 

 

Jon

It felt like he had already been before the great weirwood for an hour, and he was self- conscious to be standing there like a _useless_ idiot. He would have much rather  done this with just his bride, and Sam to perform the ceremony. Feeling all eyes upon him had never been pleasant, but without orders to give, or a speech to make, he just felt like a fool.

 

 

He knew he should feel like the luckiest man in Westeros to be wedding this fierce queen, _and_ with his own true name at that. Part of him did, yet he couldn't shake the sadness for the ill fated timing of it all. He refused to acknowledge that deep place within, where there was terror and rage that he could lose everything to this war.

 

 

Sam interrupted his dark rumination by placing a hand on his shoulder, and looking up to see her approach his eyes grew wide, disquieted thoughts fading away.

 

 

She looked like some goddess from the Land of Always Winter.  The light of her lantern casting a golden glow, escorted by his own formidable direwolf, eyes glowing red. Waves of silver cascaded down around her, free of their usual braids. 

 

 

His long face went slack, and his eyes already stung with unshed tears, as he swallowed a lump in his throat.

 

 

He would not have believed she could have ever appeared more _gorgeous_ , and wondered if she was more than his resurrected heart could take. This ethereal beauty who was carrying his child, was going to take him as her husband.

 

 

_Seven hells, that smile will be the end of me._

 

 

Dany

The look of longing in his eyes made her feel like a dizzy _maid_ for all she felt about this dark eyed king. _Just a few words_ , became her mantra, as she pushed forward. Stopping a few paces before him, she handed her lantern off to Sansa, and Ghost moved to stand beside Arya.

 

 

Sam's kind voice rang out, "Who comes before the old gods this night?"

 

 

Taking a breath for courage, while holding the Northern King's gaze, she answered, "Daenerys of House Targaryan, rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, comes here to be wed. A woman grown, trueborn, and noble, I come here to beg the blessings of the Gods".

 

 

Jon was smiling down on her with complete adoration.

 

 

"Who comes to claim me?",she smiled at him serenely.

 

 

It was Jon's turn now, looking down for a moment to collect himself, eyes wet with emotion, he answered, "Jon Snow of houses Stark and Targaryen. King in the North, and rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms".

 

 

"Who gives her?", he asked with an encouraging smile.

 

 

Voice catching slightly, she answered, "I give myself freely".

 

 

She saw Jon take a deep breath as though he couldn't believe they were here saying these words.

 

 

Sam's voice rang through again, "Queen Daenerys, do you take this man?".

 

 

Seeing his shallow breaths, she closed the distance between them, and taking his gloved hands in hers, she breathed out, "I take this man".

 

 

Breaking decorum, and all propriety, Jon took her silver head in his hands, and pulled her in for a searing kiss.

 

 

A smack rang out in the godswood as the exhausted Lady of Winterfell hit herself in the forehead, irritated with her brother's complete lack of decency. Arya's laughter at her sister could be heard loud, and clear until Ghost, emitted a low growl at her, like another brother asssigned to keep her in line at a formal occasion.

 

 

Tyrion had the grace to cough in order to mask his own mirth

.

 

Jon could only look at her sheepishly until she burst into laughter. Her groom joining in, they looked more like the youthful lovers they longed to be, rather than the battle tested king and queen they were.

 

 

Sam cleared his throat to remind them of the solemnity of the occasion. Dany turned around, and swept her hair to the side as Jon removed her cloak, and Missandei stepped forward to collect it. Protecting her from the terrible cold, he enveloped her in his warm wolf skin mantle, filling her nose with his scent.

 

 

Kneeling before the great weirwood, Jon sent prayers to the old gods while Dany tried to commit to memory everything about this night. The cries of dragons broke their silent contemplation, and Jon rose, helping his bride back to her feet. 

 

 

They stood before their gathered loved ones, hand in hand, until Jon scooped her up in his arms and began carrying her back down the winter trail.

 

 

_This is what joy feels like,_ she thought pressing her head against his shoulder, a hand over his heart.

 

 

Suddenly, a howling wind tore through their serene haven, and they knew then the gods had ended their reverie. A dreadfull, and suffocating cold began to surround them, and she pressed her head under his chin for warmth. Without warning, the low moan of a horn shattered the silence of the evening, causing Jon to halt instantly in their path.

 

 

Stunned, they turned to each other. All color had drained from his face, and where there had been bliss in his dark eyes she now saw only _fear_ and regret.

 

 

Slipping a hand round his neck, she kissed him deep, and desparate, foreheads pressing into one another, noses brushing.

 

 

"I don't think tonight will be what we hoped for", he told her solemnly, his breath visible on the frosty air.

 

 

"No, not tonight",she soothed him, stroking his cheek, "but tomorrow. Tomorrow when this war is won. _Oh_ , but we'll have cause to celebrate _then_ ".

 

 

Looking down, he nodded before meeting her with a crestfallen gaze. He kissed her sweetly, and whispered back, "tomorrow"

.

 

She knew their only hope for a wedding night now would be one with bodies battered, and bone weary.

 

 

_Oh, but I would be grateful for that._

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> I may have gone a little OOC with Sansa...but girl was tired, running around, preparing for war, throwing this wedding together, dealing with her siblings...we all have our limits!
> 
> I tried to make this a roller coaster of emotions! I hope it was enjoyable. ❤


End file.
